In Nine Words
by louise4
Summary: On the eve of Dumbledore's funeral, an anonymous letter takes Harry on a trip down memory lane. HBP spoilers. HarryDraco preslash.


**DISCLAIMER**: Nothing is mine.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Written for the Almost Kiss challenge on _almost h/d_ LJ.

In Nine Words

By Louise

Dumbledore was dead.

It had been nearly three days now and Harry still found this hard to believe. It seemed almost unthinkable to him that he would have to face up to Voldemort without his mentor, without the man who had guided him through six years of schooling and whom he had loved like a grandfather.

As he lay in bed, unable to sleep, Harry's mind erased all those moments where Dumbeldore had manipulated him, moulded him, steered him into trouble, and left him only with the memories of how safe Dumbledore had made him feel, safe and loved.

Harry rolled over again and fumbled for his wand, groping in the darkness until he found it.

"Lumos," he whispered, and a gentle glow flooded his bed but remained contained within his curtains. Restlessly he sat up and pulled apart the curtains to peer out of the window, taking in the quite night and the marble table that stood alone by the lake. _That must be where…_

An owl tapping at the window interrupted the thought, and it pained Harry to realise how relieved he was to be stopped before he followed the thought to its inevitable end and wept.

Curiously he opened the window, letting the owl perch on his shoulder while he took the note it carried, the owl flying off before he could give it anything for its trouble.

Opening the letter, he had no preconceptions as to what it could be.

Nine words were scrawled across the paper as if written in a hurry – the author had not even taken time to sign his name. Not that it was needed.

Nine words. Nine simple words were all it took to take Harry's mind down a journey he had expressly forbidden it ever to take again.

0 0 0

_Five years ago in the Great Hall, sometime after midnight_

Whoever had returned his invisibility cloak had done him a more immediate favour than they probably had any intention of, and Harry felt the smallest twinge of guilt as he put it on and crept out of the first year dormitory.

He could almost hear Dumbledore's reproach as he did so, but he found that he just didn't care – the horror of all he had seen in the Forbidden Forest was still too close for him to sleep.

Almost unconsciously he made his way out of Gryffindor Tower and down towards the Great Hall. It was one of his favourite places in Hogwarts, one of his favourite places full stop, really, and a good part of that was because it was here that he had first been struck by all that magic could do.

Lying on one of the tables and looking up at the enchanted ceiling he once again marvelled at the magic around him. The ceiling which had been filled with twinkling stars when he first beheld it was stormy now, black clouds filling a sky lit by the pale light on an almost full moon. It looked like a storm was brewing, and Harry wondered absently whether the magic would be carried far enough that he would be rained upon.

He did not know how long he had been there, probably nearly an hour as he was now watching lightening dart across the ceiling, but he was jolted back to reality when he heard footsteps echoing in the large room.

"Potter."

"Malfoy," how bloody typical, Harry thought angrily, absolutely the last person he wanted to see, especially now. He had finally begun to feel calm again, the horrors of the forest had finally retreated from his brain, and now here was Malfoy and they'd probably end up fighting. _Please let him leave_ he pleaded to whoever might be listening.

"I don't want to fight," Malfoy spoke quietly, his words echoing Harry's thoughts as he moved closer to the other boy. "I…I couldn't sleep. I kept seeing that _thing_."

"Me too," Harry confessed shyly. He cast a sidelong look at the other boy who was now climbing up onto the table next to him. He had spent months being both annoyed and intimidated by Malfoy and didn't know how to take this show of weakness on the part of his enemy. "Why'd you come here?"

"I don't know."

"It makes me feel safe," Harry offered, wanting to find out more about Malfoy and not really knowing why, "being here, and seeing all that magic can do. It's amazing, and very comforting."

"When I was little my mother used to say there were two kinds of people, those who said the goblet was half full, and those who said it was half empty. You're very much the former aren't you?"

Harry just shrugged, not really sure where Malfoy was going with this.

"We just saw one of the worst things magic has to offer, and you come down here to marvel at the good it can do. You're a strange boy Harry Potter."

Malfoy had moved closer as he spoke, and Harry could feel the other boy's breath on his cheek. As he turned his head to face his companion he became aware of a strange knot in his stomach that had little to do with the usual feelings Malfoy inspired.

Licking his lips he suddenly found it very hard to speak, and it seemed like Malfoy was getting nearer…

"Potter! Malfoy!" The loud, shocked interruption was followed by the sight of Professor McGonnagol bearing down upon them. "What are you two doing out of bed? Did your detention have so little impact on you that you are fighting already?"

Protests were useless and both boys were escorted back to their common rooms, glaring at each other, the almost-civil conversation forgotten under the weight of the new trouble they were in.

It wasn't until he was safely tucked up in bed that Harry thought back to the events in the Great Hall. Really, it had seemed almost as if Malfoy had been about to kiss him.

Touching a finger to his lips Harry relived those moments again. Mafloy's breath on his cheek…Malfoy's face tilted as they looked at each other….a look that wasn't hatred in Malfoy's eyes…that knot in his own stomach.

Harry forced himself to be glad that McGonnagol interrupted them, because if he wasn't glad then he'd be almost disappointed.

It was entirely different thoughts that kept him awake for the rest of the night.

0 0 0

_Four years ago in the Slytherin Common Room, about an hour after leaving Hermione in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom_

"Medicine for my stomach," Ron/Crabbe grunted, sprinting out of the room. Harry made to follow him when Malfoy caught his arm.

"Alone at last Goyle," Malfoy sighed softly, pulling Harry closer. Harry stiffened as he was pulled round into Malfoy, close enough to smell his soap. _Too close_, his mind warned him even as Malfoy moved in even closer. _He's going to kiss me_, Harry panicked, pushing Malfoy back onto one of the carved chairs.

Unphased, Malfoy settled back in his chair and smirked up at Harry, "Jumpy much Potter."

"Wha-?"

"It was fairly obvious Potter, you and Weasley aren't exactly crack undercover aurors after all. How thick do you think my friends are that I'd fall for all the grunting and subservience?"

"Sorry," Harry muttered, looking at his shoes.

Malfoy just raised an eyebrow in amusement and, in a voice tinged with something like regret told Harry he'd "better get going. The polyjuice has almost worn off and Weasley will be looking for you. What did you do with my friends anyway?"

"They're in a closet."

"Ironic," Malfoy muttered as Harry ran out of the Common Room and back towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, trying very hard not to echo Malfoy's regret at their separation.

0 0 0

_Three years ago in the Hospital Wing_

Stuck in bed and feeling incredibly annoyed about it, Harry had gotten very good at 'overhearing' the conversations of those around him. As a result he was noticing things that had completely passed him by before. He had picked up on the affection that underpinned Hermione's every interaction with Ron, and had begun to wonder how he had missed her crush before. Equally he watched with interest the strange courtship between Fred and Angelina, observing how Fred's blasé attitude contrasted with the thoughtful way he treated Angelina whenever he thought no one was looking. Harry had also noticed with interest the way Percy Weasley hung around while Oliver visited him, and the way he allowed Oliver to steer him out of the infirmary afterward, hand placed comfortably in the small of his back.

After three days of watching other people live their lives, the 'overhearing' was no longer deliberate, and Harry did not even feel his usual twinge of guilt as he eavesdropped on Malfoy's conversation with Madam Pomfrey.

"Let's have a look at this arm dear," she began with her usual no nonsense manner, unwrapping the bandage on Malfoy's arm. "Well I think we may finally have conquered it this time my dear."

"Good," was all that Malfoy said, but Harry was certain he saw a flicker of relief cross the otherwise expressionless face.

"Do you need anymore painkillers Draco," Madam Pomfrey spoke more quietly now, giving the impression that this was an oft discussed and sensitive subject. "I have had more than enough muggle treatments for one year and while some may have their place," he gestured to the bandages keeping his wound clean, "I refuse to rely on muggle drugs to make it through the day. I hear they can even be addictive, for those who are weak of character."

Madam Pomfrey merely rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue, but Harry sensed that she and Malfoy had come to some sort of agreement. "Get off with you then," she smiled, heading towards the staff area.

"Malfoy," Harry called out softly, not sure if he wanted to be heard.

"Potter, still malingering?"

Harry winced inwardly at the tone but, Gryffindor to the core, he spoke again. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you were really injured." Harry blurted the words out quickly before he could change his mind.

"Why should you have believed me, I'm just a sneaky Slytherin after all," Draco sneered bitterly.

"I am sorry," Harry repeated, searching for something to prove what he said. They were alone, he realised, alone together for the first time in nearly a year. Then it hit him: the last two times they had been alone together Malfoy had tried to talk to him, tried maybe to do more. He could show Malfoy that he wasn't alone in feeling some sort of pull towards his supposed enemy. Slowly he leaned forward, not sure whether he was aiming for lips or cheek.

It didn't matter, because Malfoy leaped away looking furious.

"One lame apology and everything is all right between us? Bollocks." He stormed towards the door, a frown marring his smooth features. "You'll have to do better than that Potter," he muttered.

Harry frowned, not entirely sure what had happened.

The only thing he knew for certain was that he hoped he wasn't the only one lying awake all night. Again.

0 0 0

_Two years ago on the Hogwarts Express_

Looking back, Harry wasn't even sure anything had definitely happened, but at the time he hadn't been able to escape the tingle on his hand where Malfoy had touched him.

He had climbed aboard the Hogwart's Express feeling worse than ever about going back to the Dursleys. About an hour into the journey he had headed to the bathroom, more to avoid the sympathetic looks of his companions than for any more pressing reason.

Malfoy was on his way out as Harry headed in, and Harry was more than willing to ignore the other boy, certainly not looking for yet another fight. At the last moment, however, Malfoy caught his arm, hand sliding down to brush Harry's for a moment. They stared at each other for a moment before Malfoy looked away, flushing pink.

"I don't know why, but I'm glad you didn't die."

"Me too," Harry spoke after a moments confusion, but he spoke to Malfoy's back as the other boy escaped down the corridor and back to his friends.

0 0 0

_One year ago out by the lake, sometime late in the afternoon_

Harry had lost track of how long he'd been sitting outside alone, brooding over information he would rather never have known. It was turning dark, he realised, when he recognised yet more footsteps coming towards him. Half the DA had come up to see if he was alright, and he had rebuffed all with varying degrees of rudeness, each time feeling horribly guilty about it but not ready to go back and apologise. Explanations and apologies would come, but not yet. How could any of his friends understand how violently all his illusions about his father had been swept away?

Without turning around he knew who it was, he didn't know how he knew and he certainly wasn't going to think about it. More because he wanted to imagine he didn't know than out of curiosity to find out who was behind him, Harry turned round, looking up into the face of Draco Malfoy.

When he wasn't immediately met with a curt 'fuck off' Malfoy sat down at arms length from Harry, looking for all the world as if he was trying to find the right words to say.

Harry watched with an almost detached amusement as Draco went through a rather amusing pantomime, turning his head to face Harry, wetting his lips before opening his mouth, only to shut it again with a snap before looking down at his hands and wriggling in his seat, each squirm moving him slightly closer to Harry.

_It's strange_, Harry thought, _being this comfortable just sitting with Malfoy, just being quiet with him when I can't even talk to my friends. I wonder_…

"Malfoy," he began tentatively, causing Draco to turn eager eyes on him. Licking his lips Harry asked quickly, "Would you still love your father if you had proof that he was a total shit, and not this fantastic person you believed him to be?"

Clearly it was the wrong thing to say. Harry spotted that almost immediately, though he could have been clued in by the fist that came out of nowhere.

"Bastard," Malfoy spat angrily. "I don't know why I thought we could…" He abruptly cut off his almost inaudible comment, storming off towards the castle.

_He's fucking mental_, Harry told himself firmly as he dabbed at his split lip. It was, he decided, time to go and speak to his friends.

It wasn't until much later, when he was alone in bed that Harry finally realised what he had been too dense to see before. His mind had been aimlessly rolling around the events of the day when it him. _'Shit,'_ he thought, _'he thought I was talking about Lucius. There he was, trying to…To what?'_ Harry remembered the last time Malfoy had acted like that, gotten that close. Was Malfoy after that again, was he trying to talk to him like…like a non-enemy? Was he trying to kiss him?

'_Would I have minded if he did?'_

Hermione was right, he realised: he was absolutely useless at the romantic stuff.

0 0 0

Wrenching his mind back from the past Harry smoothed out the note he had inadvertently crumpled in his hands. Softening slightly he read it again,

_I suppose I'll never get to kiss you now._

Draco, it seemed, had been thinking of him too.

Despite all that had happened and all that Draco himself had done to cause it, Harry could not help feeling regret about the fact that he would probably never see Draco again. And he felt more than regret at the realisation that, should he see him again, it would most likely be in battle and one of them would most likely end up dead.

It was weak, and Harry knew he could not afford weakness now, but despite that he found himself folding the note and putting it in his top pocket, close to his heart.

**THE END**

So, waht did you think?


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